I raised my brows. Nick shrugged.
The next call was from Marcy. She sounded panicked, which was likely genuine. Marcy Talbot loved her routine more than the Queen loved her tea, and even the smallest upset put a serious wrinkle in her demeanor. She was the only gal pal I’d ever had—or even toyed with having. We didn’t do sleepovers or get pedicures, but there was a connection there. She ended her call with, “… and if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll make your life a living hell. You can count on it, princess.” Click.
The next call was from my neighbor Juanita Perez, a fifty-something Latina divorcée who’d never quite gotten the hint, like everyone else in my apartment building, that I despised small talk. Instead, she behaved quite the opposite. “Hola, Chica,” her heavily accented Spanish stretched across the phone line, then dropped to a rough whisper. “Dees is Juanita Perez, jour neighbor here. Somteen baaad has happened. The police, they tell me you are not at home when the crashing and the banging start, but I know you are still in there. I hear you come home in the night, but I weel not tell. I weel keep it quiet from them. Since they did not find you in there, I theenk you must get away anyway. I keep jour secret, but oh, Chica, the damage, it es sooo much. I weel pray for you.” Click.
I pressed lucky number seven to erase her message from my phone forever. Then made a mental note to thank her by buying some of that Patrón tequila she always talked about. Maybe then she’d forget she ever made this call. Though having a neighbor who would gladly lie to the police for me, without my asking, was definitely a huge bonus. Juanita could be a thorn in my conversational side, but now I knew for sure she had my back. If anything, this phone call should teach me to be a better neighbor. It paid off.
The next call was the one I’d been hoping for, and Pete’s voice came on the line calm and precise as usual. “Molly, it’s Pete. Looks like there was some trouble at your place over the weekend.” I could hear him in the background shuffling papers. “It says here you weren’t at home during the time of the … assault.” He read off the page, “Bed was made, no sign of struggle, blood in your living room, rope fragments on the balcony. Lots of speculation here. Looks like the place was roughed up quite a bit, possibly by someone’s … pet?” I could hear the surprise in his voice.
The police wouldn’t have a good way to explain the massive amounts of fur or the gouged claw marks all over my floors. Bringing your pet to a crime scene was highly unusual. Anyone with a brain would know that the fur samples taken from my apartment could be matched to their pet exactly, making them guilty.
Pete continued in his monotone. “Your purse was found at the scene, but you were MIA. Looks here like a call to your office found you were … camping?” The inflection in his voice showed this piece of information was still under speculation by all. “Ray’s got your case. Call me.” Click.
“Oh, for fucksake!” I yelled, throwing the phone onto the dashboard in disgust. “Just drive straight to jail and drop me off. If Ray’s on the case it’s not going to be a fair investigation anyway, so we may as well save the taxpayers some money.” Anyone but Raymond Hart and I’d have a shot of talking my way out of this mess. I glanced at Nick and he shook his head in sympathy. “Is it too much to ask to get someone who doesn’t have a wicked vendetta against me to take the case?”
“Apparently it is,” Nick answered. “Do you really think he’d pass up the opportunity to nail you to the wall? He probably had to trade all his good cases in order to get your crappy one.”
I sighed. “I don’t know why I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t do exactly that. Of course he’d want this case. He can use it as his final grandstand against me.”
Ray Hart hated me. If he could finally prove I was the dope freak he thought I was, or at the very least engaged in something highly illegal, it would make his whole existence. I’d unwittingly become his number one focus during my short eighteen months on the police force. In hindsight, joining the PD had been the most foolish vocation I could’ve ever chosen. But I’d been young and eager to show the world what I had to offer, and unfortunately, even though I hadn’t been full blooded, I’d still been a female born to an enhanced gene pool, which meant I could run faster than any of my human male counterparts, jump higher, lift more than I should be able to, and to top it off, I had better instincts.
According to Raymond Hart, the only rational explanation for “stunts like that” was my being a total crackhead or speed junkie. I must’ve been doped up on some kind of a superdrug to perform feats like that, and even though I’d willingly subjected myself to multiple drug tests, and worked actively on my defense—in the end, the only option left for me was to quit.
But it’d been too late to shake Ray.
After I’d departed from the police force, along with Nick, who had joined with me, Ray had kept me in his sights. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he wasn’t willing to let it go. There were rumors he still took home police footage of me in unexplainable situations, either clearing a six-foot fence with relative ease, or of me explaining how I tracked a perp to an undisclosed location with nothing but my eyes and ears to guide me.
The man was irrationally obsessed, which was a dangerous thing for him to be, especially in light of my recent lifestyle changes.
I glanced at my phone on the dashboard, laying where I’d tossed it. “There’s one more message on my phone,” I said. “It said I had seven, but I only listened to six.” I knew without having to check it was Ray. I glanced over at the driver’s seat. “I’m going to have to listen to it, aren’t I?”
“If you want a decent heads-up, you do. If not, feel free to let it go.”
I reluctantly plucked my phone off the dashboard. “I need some alcohol for this.”
Nick laughed. “Sorry, but all the Jack is at home.”
Ray’s tenor spread like oil into my eardrum. “Hannon, it’s Hart. By now you should know your apartment has been trashed by someone and their goddamn pet. You appear to be camping.” He let that one sit for a second, his glee prickling me through the phone. “When you get your ass out from wherever you are, call me. I need a formal statement. No more fucking around.” Click.
That was it.
A good cop knew a crime like this one was personal, and unfortunately Ray was a good cop. Nobody trashed your furniture and personal possessions except a scorned lover, a drug dealer you owed serious money to, or a sick bastard with a vendetta—and they’d brought their pet, no less. Who brings their animal to a premeditated crime? The only thing running in my favor, the one thing casting a shadow of doubt on the investigation and my possible connection to it, was thanks to the talented Marcy. My most personal space, my bedroom, had been left intact. The place you lay your head is the first place someone goes for revenge.
Damn, I was really going to have to pay her more.
“Ray’s never going to buy that a stranger did that to your place,” Nick said.
“I know.” I ran my hands through my hair. “The only solution is to continue with the personal angle. We’ll have to dig up a former pissed-off target who had motive to break into my house—which shouldn’t be too hard. There wasn’t an actual burglary, so there’ll be no need to press formal charges.”
“And will this mystery person we dig up happen to have a pet whose fur matches the samples taken from your apartment exactly?” Nick chuckled. “Ray’s not going to back off that easily. I’m sure he’ll be lurking in your hallway for the next year until this is solved to his liking. He’s a bloodhound. You haven’t given him a whiff of anything in five solid years, and now you just dumped the best load of crap ever into his lap.”
“Ugh, I know.” I gave Nick a sideways smirk. “But if he doesn’t back down eventually, I can just beat him up with my new guns.” I brought my arms up and flexed my biceps. They didn’t seem any firmer than usual, but I knew they’d inflict a hell of a lot more damage now if applied correctly—and I planned on applying them very correctly. “Or I could grow so
me fur, or take a swipe at him with my new, handy-dandy claws.” I wiggled my fingertips. The claws weren’t out, but it was cool to know they were there somewhere.
“Those would be … effective tactics.” Nick chortled. “If you were insane. And I’m sure there wouldn’t be any consequences if you chose to go that route.”
I sighed. Of course there’d be plenty of repercussions, but the real problem was none of them would really affect me in the long run. Now that I was Pack, I had a secret to guard and Pack would enforce it without thought. If Ray kept digging his nose where it didn’t belong, the Pack would have no problem taking care of him—permanently.
I hated the guy, but I wasn’t ready to sign his death warrant.
“I’ll just have to soldier on without my new muscles,” I said, reconciling myself to my boring fate. “I’ve got the camping bags and the passes. It’s weak, but it should hold and cast enough doubt into my involvement, which is all I’ll need in the end. I’ll just have to find a scorned lover who has a penchant for big dogs.”
Nick smiled wryly at me. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem, Jess. It just so happens we have a lot of big dogs to choose from.”
Now it was my turn to snort. “We can’t frame a werewolf, and none of them would cooperate on their own anyway. They’d just as soon have me thrown behind bars so they didn’t have to deal with me. Not that a jail cell could hold me anymore.” I grinned. That was pretty sweet.
I picked up my phone and dialed Ray. It was better not to put off the inevitable. It went to voicemail, which was a small victory. “Ray, I’m on my way back into town. Should be hitting the city in two hours,” I said. “See you then.”
I had no doubt he would be waiting in my hallway in one and a half.
5
Ray Hart had one shoulder braced against the wall, both his arms loosely folded in front of him like he didn’t give a shit how long he had to wait. To a passerby out on the street, he would’ve appeared to be waiting patiently for his wife to finish up her shopping so they could catch a movie.
Except, of course, he wasn’t married and probably hadn’t seen a movie since Rambo hit the big screen.
I wasn’t fooled.
Ray was just under six feet tall with a full head of steel-colored hair. It was cut close to the scalp in a style that would’ve been military if he’d ever joined up. He had mean muscle, the kind that looked beefy and aggressive. His square jaw matched his thick eyebrows perfectly. He wore plain clothes, a pair of dark khaki pants, and a blue dress shirt, and his hazel eyes bored directly into mine as I walked down the hallway.
I had to hide my grin, since Ray’s easy stance was in direct contrast to the foul odor he was emitting. If the strong scent of leftover curry, the garbage that needed immediate emptying, or the stale smell of uncirculated air wasn’t enough—the smell of Ray could’ve knocked me over on its own.
He reeked like a potent mix of satisfaction laced with heavy aggression, and it blew into my nose like a leaf blower aimed straight at my face. This man was not going to accept any of the bullshit I’d planned to dish out. I had to come up with plan B.
Ray exaggerated a look past me, bending his head forward, like he’d expected me to arrive with someone else. When he saw no one behind me he feigned surprise.
But I was alone on purpose.
Both Nick and I agreed it would be better if he stayed out of this for now. Ray knew Nick and I were partners. He knew where to find him.
I plastered on my best smile and sauntered up to him without dropping my eyes. With the sarcasm he’d be expecting, I dripped, “Hello, Ray.” I adjusted my hold on the backpack and shifted the sleeping bag I carried in my arms. I’d rubbed dirt on my clothes at the last pit stop, to add to the authenticity, but the hair on my legs and the pungent sweat was completely mine alone. No need to up that ante. “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a little too long in between stalkings. I’ve missed our happy fun time.”
“Cut the crap, Hannon,” he said. “Looks like you got yourself into some serious trouble this time. Care to explain?” He levered himself away from the wall in one clean movement, his eyes flickering over my ensemble with little interest.
“Ray, you know perfectly well I can’t explain something I haven’t seen yet. I just arrived back in town from the wilderness five seconds ago. From what I’ve heard, someone took advantage of my absence and trashed my apartment.”
Ray crossed his arms. “That’s a convenient way to look at it.”
“Gimme a break, Ray.” I dropped my bags by the door and gave him my best pissy look. “You know damn well in my line of work I make enemies all the time.” I turned toward my door. “Something like this is not exactly out of the ordinary, but I shouldn’t have to explain that to you. You’re the detective.”
Ray grunted his response and shifted his body so he stood directly behind me as I reached for my doorknob.
I paused mid-grab.
Holy crap. I didn’t have a key. I’d totally forgotten about a key.
Oh, for shitssake.
Instead of reaching into my shorts, where I knew I wouldn’t find one, I continued reaching for the knob, praying the door would miraculously be unlocked.
I casually turned the knob.
Nothing.
The knob had in fact turned, but the deadbolt above it was engaged, so it didn’t give an inch. Jeff the super had a set of keys and must have buttoned it up after the cops left. Inside the door, my lock was sticking its thick metal tongue out at me and laughing. I couldn’t shoulder it either. The bolt was top of the line, courtesy of a certain Alpha father, and fashioned from some sort of unbreakable titanium. I could probably rip the door off the hinges without much effort, but that would be a tad too suspicious in front of a detective when I was gunning for complete innocence of any wrongdoing.
I hesitated for a moment, trying to muster a reasonable way out of this.
“Looking for these?” A ring of keys bounced in front of my face like a cat toy.
I glanced back at Ray. His face was inscrutable, but his eyes were focused on me like two beady lasers. Hoping, I’m sure, to note some kind of major reaction on my part. And to add insult to injury, the smell wafting off him now was pure, unmitigated delight.
I was getting good at this sniffing game, the rat bastard.
When I didn’t answer, he said, “These were found in your purse—along with all the other goodies you’d think someone would need on vacation. Like your wallet and your sunglasses.” The cynicism dripped heavily. “Not many women I know who’d leave town without their purse tucked under their arm.”
I turned to face him, leaning back against my door. Then I crossed my arms in front of me, because I was already tired of this game and we were just getting started. “Listen, Ray. I realize you think I had something to do with this whole mess.” I jabbed my elbow into the door, indicating the mess in my apartment. “And you think I’m hiding a big, juicy secret from the world. Possibly hidden somewhere behind that door. In fact, you’ve been dogging me for a very long time trying to find out exactly what it is, making my life hard and increasingly more miserable along the way, but here’s the truth—are you ready? I’m not hiding anything.” Well, other than the fact that I’d just turned into a scary werewolf. “I’m not on drugs and I don’t deal them. I don’t have ties to the Colombians, and more importantly, I haven’t broken any laws. The truth is, my boy-friend and I decided to go camping at the last minute simply because the weather was beautiful.” Thank goodness it wasn’t tornado season. “It was just one of those happy, carefree decisions people make. He took care of bringing the keys, and I forgot to get them back. And while we were gone, someone trashed my place. That’s the end of the incredibly juicy story.” I reached up and snatched the dangling keys from his grasp and turned to unlock my damn door.
Ray’s voice hummed with contempt. “Really, Hannon? And where in the hell is he right now? Shouldn’t he be here with you, so he can unlock
your door with his key? And help you see about all your troubles?”
“Nope,” I said as the deadbolt snapped open. “The last time I checked, I was a big girl who could handle her own problems.”
He wasn’t buying any of it, but I didn’t have much choice. Telling the truth was not an option and I had no other alibi at this point. Ray didn’t have any legal right to harass me in my hallway anyway, and as a former cop I knew my rights—but if I tossed him out I might as well just buy my own orange jumpsuit. I could call a lawyer, but lawyering up was just short of admitting you did it. I was hoping my apartment would be a big enough distraction, so we could focus on a new topic, like how I had nothing to do with any of it.
The door swung open.
My apartment was more than a helpful distraction.
It was a fucking showstopper.
My breath hitched in my throat. The devastation was complete. The apartment looked exactly how I’d imagine a frat house would appear after a night of disruptive partying by an army of hooligans bent on total destruction. There wasn’t a scrap of furniture in my living room left standing. The only nice thing I owned, an antique sidebar, which used to run along my living room wall, was now lying in a heap of broken wooden chunks.
I must’ve barreled into it from the side. A few times. Now it resembled a collapsed cardboard box, all the broken bits lying haphazardly at odd angles.
The rest of my furniture was scattered around the apartment. Literally. It was like a grenade had exploded my life into complete chaos. My gaze landed on my shredded couch. Stuffing erupted from the cushions like fluffy intestines, and both armrests were completely mangled. I must have pushed off hard, because the couch was clear across the room.
Damn, I liked that couch.
“I’ve never seen a place trashed this badly in my entire career,” Ray said smugly. He stood just behind me once again, peering over my shoulder at the wreckage.
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